


vampires will never hurt you

by Trojie



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: A Little Less Sixteen Candles A Little More "Touch Me" (Video), Andy Hurley is the best bro, Choking, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, getting off together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:54:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29162970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie
Summary: Pete is having maybe too much fun with the supernatural theme of the band's latest video. Things get out of hand. Andy is, as always, the best.
Relationships: Andy Hurley/Pete Wentz
Comments: 17
Kudos: 13





	vampires will never hurt you

**Author's Note:**

> Listen. That has to be the title. It just does. You'll see.
> 
> Do I know which order FOB filmed their various music videos in? No, and looking things up is for squares. I'm not trying to fool anyone into thinking this is anything other than the product of my overheated brain. There are no facts here. 
> 
> And of course huge thanks to Uglowian for the beta-read <3

'It's possible,' says Andy, towelling off his sweat-stringing hair, 'that this is the stupidest video we've ever made.'

'Yeah, it's possible,' says Pete stretching out in his honest-to-god folding director's chair, 'but c'mon, you're forgetting our greatest hits, like 'me and Patrick murder each other under the L tracks', 'deer boy uses antlers to get upskirt view of girlfriend' and 'that time we all went and pretended to play a show in the snow and you had to blowdry your kickdrum afterwards'.'

'I should have made FBR buy me a new set of skins for that,' says Andy darkly, flopping into the chair next to Pete. 'Seriously though, dude, did you even read the treatment before you okayed this?'

'The treatment said 'Andy makes out with girls and does a shirtless Rocky training montage',' Pete points out. 'I basically rubberstamped it after that, obviously.'

'You're such a fucking perv,' says Andy, but he looks smug. He worked hard to fill out his toastrack chest and cover it in ink, he always preens when someone notices.

'Hey, you could have vetoed it if you didn't want to do it. Joe got that whole sequence where he was supposed to be making silver arrowheads in the spooky moonlit clocktower cut.'

'It _was_ like, uncomfortably homoerotic, with the whole torn-off shirt and the werewolf and all,' Andy says. 'Plus it added an extra thirty seconds to the runtime, and we're already got four minutes more video than song.'

'Yeah, I'm sure that was his main concern. The runtime.'

'Just because you're always on the cusp of taking your clothes off on camera doesn't mean the kids are too.'

'Pot, kettle, Shirtless Wonder.'

Andy rolls his eyes. 'Ugh, are we done for the day, d'you think?'

'Patrick's recording take seven hundred and fifty eight of his voiceover monologue about how I'm a creature of the night or whatever, but after that I think we're free, yeah.'

'Thank God,' Andy says, refolding his shirt and draping it over his shoulder instead of putting it back on. 'I'm so ready to crash.'

'Fuck, me too - and we get two whole motel rooms on the label's dime tonight.'

Andy clearly had forgotten this joyous fact, going by the relieved expression on his face, so Pete decides to make it even better.

'And Patrick isn't sharing with me right now, something about unwanted touching, which is unfair because it was just a fucking hug, so you and I are bunk buddies again. Just like the olden days.'

Andy rolls his eyes just as the under-sub-deputy-something director's assistant calls out that that's a wrap for the day and they're to go back and get some sleep.

'Wirework tomorrow, for the band! Early call! A car will come pick you up at 6, be ready.'

Pete groans. '6am? If I get to sleep before fucking 5am it'll be a miracle.'

'Deal with it, bitch,' says Patrick grumpily, trudging past in a maelstrom of denim and flatcap and sideburns. 'I thought you didn't need sleep, anyway.'

'I don't,' says Pete, catching him around the shoulders for a hug and risking a kiss on the very top of his hat where he hopefully won't register it happening. 'I'm a creature of the night.'

Patrick shakes him off. 'I'm sharing with Joe tonight,' he says with dignity. 'And you're not invited, Count Dracula.'

Andy's already walking past, so Pete changes tack and leaps up onto his back like a spider monkey. 'Andyyy,' he intones. 'I vant to suck your …'

Andy twists his neck so Pete can see it when he raises an eyebrow. 

' … blood?'

'This is why people spread rumours about you online, Pete,' says Patrick.

***

'Why mister Hurley, I hope you're not planning on taking advantage of me,' Pete says, when he comes out of the bathroom and finds Andy already sprawled semi-naked all over the bed that Pete had claimed by virtue of dropping his shirt on it. He has to stop, still towelling his hair off, and admire. Andy's all pretty colours and strong lines, and no matter what Pete's feelings du jour are on the subject of _boys_ overall, Andy doesn't count for looking at, somehow. Maybe because he matters more to Pete than most other people do. 

And like. Sometimes they share a room and it's gameboys and walkmans and splitting headphones til 3am. Sometimes it's wrestling each other for the remote control. Sometimes it's jerking off together. Friendship is a many-splendoured thing. 

'I've never in my life taken advantage of you,' Andy points out, with his hand tucked gently in his waistband. 'I've hardly ever even said no to you, about anything from drumming for your stupid bands to sharing a bed with your gross unwashed body. I am a _fucking gift_. That said, are you totally wedded to the vampire theme? Tonight, I mean. I guess it's too late to do anything about the video.'

Pete bounces onto the bed next to him, baring his teeth in a mock growl. They made him leave the fake fangs on set overnight, which he's sure is because there's some totally unfair perception of him as a person who would lose props. 'You're no fun,' he says, poking at Andy's colourful shoulder. 'It is kind of like. Hot, though? The whole thing with the biting and the overpowering and shit. Right?' 

Andy gives him a mildly interested look. 'You get off on the idea of having someone in your evil thrall, Wentz?'

Pete squirms. 'I mean. Yeah, totally, definitely. Super into that whole. Being a predator thing. Rrrrrr.'

He isn't expecting to suddenly get pinned down by Andy's entire scrawny, terrifyingly strong body, and he can't help the noise he makes when it happens. 

'I saw your dailies,' Andy murmurs, nosing at his earlobe. 'You know you can't act for beans, right?'

'Hey, uncalled for,' says Pete, trying for indignant and struggling with the fact that all the blood in his body is going south as Andy plants a knee between his thighs. 'I was the fucking spirit of Bela Lugosi out there.'

Andy ignores him in favour of more cuddling. 'But you know what was really convincing?'

'Please tell me it was my bloodlust,' 

Andy shakes his head, a fond little smile on his face. 'It was when that stunt guy had his arm around your throat.'

He presses his forearm down over Pete's necklace of thorns, and Pete swallows hard and leans into it. Uh. Figuratively speaking only, of course. 'So, mighty hunter,' he manages, trying to find his character's voice again like he did on set. 'You've got me at your mercy at last.'

There's a long beat, and then Andy cracks up laughing and rolls off him. 'Oh my god, this is the world's worst vampire-themed porno already and I still have my pants on.'

'Aw, c'mon, you aren't going to ... stake me?' Pete says, crawling over to cuddle up to Andy's chest, waggling his eyebrows. 'There are so many lines about sucking things we could be using right now,' he adds. 

'No, there's one line, and you already used it like seven times today, and that's why Patrick doesn't want to share with you tonight.'

Pete pouts. 'Patrick's being lame.'

'Patrick has reasonable human boundaries.'

'He's no fun. C'mon, Andy. I'm a predator. It's up to you to save all the local virgins by … staking me.' Pete tries to wriggle himself under Andy's body again. It felt good to be there, and he doesn't love this whole serious conversation tangent they're sliding towards. He doesn't want a serious conversation, he wants to jerk off a little while squashed up against Andy's body, and then watch a movie.

Andy lets him get back under, smiling indulgently, which Pete isn't thinking about, he isn't - the way that Andy's always indulging him, from _hey, so, the Trohman kid and I started a band, and we need a drummer -_ all the way up to this. 

It's so easy to roll his hips, nudge them together. But that's too sweet and nice and friendly. Pete's been trying to channel vampire all day, and he knows he's a terrible actor, okay, he does, but Andy's … not. 

Andy's good. 

Pete totally bought what he was selling, and Andy's right - the only time Pete wasn't acting today was when someone strong pushed him up against a wall. 

They don't normally like ... Normally, they just touch themselves, not each other. Leaning on each other, maybe, maybe they look (sometimes Pete can't look at all, he _can't --_ and sometimes he can't look away, it varies), but this has never been a touching-thing. 

That's maybe weird, given how Pete makes everything into a touching-thing normally, and how sometimes Andy's firm hugs are what keeps him from spinning totally off his axis, but it is what it is. 

Tonight, he kind of wants it to be what it isn't, though. He's been acting all day, or trying to. He's not acting now.

He drags at Andy, pulling him down hard, wanting to feel that crush again, wanting to be something other than a jerk-off, but Andy pushes back. 'I'm not role-playing this shit with you,' he says, and his voice is severe but his eyes are fond, and Pete's weirdo stop-start-y libido can work with that. 'Tell me what you want in actual human words.'

Pete can't quite look him in the face. He tries to find that damsel-in-distress feeling, the lit fuse that got sparked against the wall on set. 'Fuck me?' he suggests, staring down Andy's body. 

'Yeah, no, try again.'

'C'mon, Andy.'

'I'm sorry, I don't put my appendages inside people who can't make eye contact about it.'

Pete twists, and looks up at him, and bites his lip because seriously? Andy noses a sloppy kiss to his throat, though, and skirts his hands down Pete's ribs. 'C'mon,' he murmurs. 'You want something, I know you do. Just fucking ask me for it, Pete. And don't say fucking, I know that's not what you want.'

'Fuck _you_.'

'Try again.'

'Andyyyy.'

Andy sits right back on his haunches, hovering, none of his weight anywhere on Pete. He slides a hand back into his own shorts again. 'We can just do this,' he says, as easy as pie. 'You don't have to put on some act, Pete. This is enough, okay, this is always enough, it's plenty. I'm not trying to get something more.'

Pete hates the thought that Andy thinks he's the one that pushed this. He takes Andy's other hand, loose on the sheets, and puts it over his throat. 'You were the one that said I can't act,' he says hoarsely. 'And it's enough for me too, just. Can you just? This as well?'

Andy tightens his fingers incrementally. 'This?'

'Fuck, yeah.' Pete scrabbles at his jeans, trying to catch up. When he looks up again, Andy's eyes are closed and he's biting his lip, and the hand in his shorts is working himself with short, hard strokes that look like they'd almost hurt. His wrist is all cramped up, and he's breathing so quick. His fingers twitch and tighten even more and Pete squeaks, gasps. 

Andy's eyes open again. 'Fuck,' he growls. 'C'mere,' and before Pete can process quite what the growl does to him, he's been turned all around and he's half in Andy's lap, back to Andy's sweaty chest, with Andy's watercolour of a left forearm across his throat. 'Better,' Andy says, except it's not, because Pete can't feel the hard points of his fingertips on either side of his larynx any more.

Instead, he can feel where Andy's knuckles bump his ass where Pete is awkwardly straddling one of his thighs, the rhythm of Andy working himself. Pete reaches up both hands desperately to try and tighten Andy's grip on him, and there's a split second of calm when Andy stops and then his warm, so fucking warm, hand takes hold of Pete's dick -

Pete jacknifes against Andy's body so hard that Andy's arm finally locks in place like he wanted, but Andy yanks his hand back like he's been burned. 'Sorry, fuck, shit, sorry, I forgot -'

'No, don't - it's good, it's good, I just wasn't ready -' Pete's jerking himself hard, shocked, perfect, wrong - it's not what he wanted but he's not meant to get what he wants, so it's perfect, it's right - 

'I forgot, I'm sorry,' Andy groans, and loosens his grip, strokes Pete's hip apologetically. 

'Don't be sorry,' Pete moans, shoving himself against Andy harder. 'Don't be sorry, don't - fuck, Andy, please, I need you to make me -'

It's the wrong thing to say - _make me_ is the wrong, wrong thing to say to Andy Hurley - and Pete can feel it in every place they're touching.

'Hey, easy,' Andy says, steadying Pete's jerking hips with his free hand. 'Take it easy, Pete.'

'I don't think that's how hunters are meant to treat vicious creatures of the night,' Pete growls, trying to throw himself into the feeling. 'We're monsters, you're meant to make us regret it.'

'Vampires were all victims before they were monsters,' says Andy, and now his free arm is a solid iron band around Pete's throat - not tight at all, but not moving either, and his fingers on Pete's hip are so gentle. "No-one ever seems to remember that.'

'You mean you're not going to punish me for my evil ways?'

'Is that what you want?' Andy asks, looking down at Pete over the flat rise of his shoulder. 'Because if you want it because it gets you off, then sure, but dude. You haven't done anything evil.'

Pete whines in the back of his throat. 'It gets me off,' he gasps. 'I'm just a freak, you know that. Tell me I'm a bad boy, or something, _fuck_.'

Andy kisses his temple, too sweet for words. 'You're a good boy, Pete,' he says, and oh, Jesus. 'You're good for me.'

Pete struggles for another moment, and Andy tightens his arm again, til Pete can feel it when he swallows because there's the tiniest constriction on his windpipe. He can't even help his hand falling back onto his dick. 

Andy's smile behind Pete's ear is devastating. 

***

Patrick fronts up to the pickup at ass o clock the next morning looking as bad and sleep-deprived as Pete, but he's the one who's rude enough to grunt 'you look like shit, dude,' and not even share his coffee.

"So do you. What's your excuse?" Pete asks him.

'Joe fucking sleep-talking. You?'

Pete takes his coffee anyway and drinks a blessed swallow down his sore throat. 'I dunno. Method acting, I guess.'


End file.
